


Perfection Isn't For Us

by fridaynightbitchfights



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Comedy, Drunken Shenanigans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Oblivious, Sharing a Bed, the holy trifecta basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridaynightbitchfights/pseuds/fridaynightbitchfights
Summary: Dan and Phil are dumb, stupid boys. Not even the most perfect, match making tropes could make them realize that they like each other.





	Perfection Isn't For Us

It’s a very, very average day. In fact, it’s so average that Phil proposes that they go get Starbucks to rejuvenate themselves. Dan thinks that Phil hardly needs more energy and he’s just looking for an excuse to snack on sweet stuff because he’s bored, but Dan can’t complain.

So, basically, they’re stuck standing in a Starbucks line in one of the busiest hours of the store. The line maybe moves about an inch in five minutes because everyone in front of them seems to have decided to bring their most complicated orders just to spite Dan and Phil. Again, Dan can’t complain, because it gives him an excuse to be on his phone. He’s busy scrolling through his Instagram explore page when he feels someone tap on his shoulder. The tapping soon turns to prodding and Dan doesn’t even need to turn, he already knows who wants his attention.

Of course, it’s Phil with a big cheeky smile on his face. He moves his phone so that Dan can see what he’s watching, and it’s a video of a man in hot pink stiletto boots doing flips in the air and perfectly landing with so much finesse that it makes Dan’s jaw drop instantly.

“Jesus Christ,” Dan marvels.

“I know,” Phil says, “I don’t think he’s human.”

“And here you are, barely able to walk in sneakers.”

Phil pouts, “Thanks.”

And not another word needs to be said. Promptly, they both return to their phones, enjoying each other’s company just by being near each other. Dan doesn’t think about it too much nowadays, but in the back of his mind, he always appreciates the quiet and still parts of their friendship.

This goes on all the way until they get into the front of the line. They order their usual and swiftly stand out of the way, waiting for their names to be called. They’ve still got their noses stuck on their phones, and it’s then when something very, uh, abnormal happens.

“Uh, excuse me,” a voice says.

Immediately, Dan pockets his phone and smiles widely. Phil makes the same practiced move as they both turn to look at what is, evidently, an adult woman. Sure, their fans aren’t always teenagers, so this doesn’t surprise them in the least. Dan makes sure to turn the hospitality up to eleven, and says “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” the woman laughs, cheeks already quiet rosy, probably from excitement, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No worries,” Phil joins in, “Are you having a good day?”  
“Oh, yes!” Clearly quite surprised that she is being treated with so much kindness, the woman seems to gain a bit of confidence, “I’ve just, um, come to ask you--”

From years of experience, Dan already knows she wants to ask for a picture, so he says, “Of course, just give me your phone and I’ll take the selfie. I’ve got really long arms so I’ll be able to get all of us.”

The woman blinks, “What? I wasn’t-- no, I just…”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Dan thinks. Suddenly, things are not going very well, very fast. Fuck. In an attempt to remedy what he’s done, Dan backtracks, “Oh, sorry, did you want something else?”

“Yes, sorry, um…” The woman trails off. She wrings her hands together, and anyone looking in could tell she’s really flustered, “I’ve just been kind of, um… My friends told me to do this because they noticed that I’ve been kind of staring at you? Not in a creepy way, but I just think you’re so, uh, stunning. I’m sorry if I’m being forward, but… Oh my gosh, this is embarrassing, but could I ask for your number. Please?”

Dan, desperately, tries to keep a straight face. Meanwhile, his thoughts are somewhere along the lines of “Oh fuuuuuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” and “This is so awkward holy shit I want to Die like actually die like actually I want Death to strangle me right here right now.”

Phil, desperately, is trying not to laugh.

“Uuuh…” Dan begins, because how in the world do you let a stranger down gently who was courageous enough to even ask him this in the first place, “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t tell me you already have a girlfriend,” the woman says, mortified. Dan can not stand that look on this woman’s face.

“No! No, it’s just--”

“Oh, okay, that’s good--”

“Yeah, great, I--”

“Then maybe we can--”

“Look, I’m--”

“I’m just gonna go,” Phil chuckles, and Dan will be damned if he has to face this on his own. Quickly, Dan grips Phil’s arm so that he doesn’t get away and looks at him dead in the eyes. _Don’t leave me on my own, you fuck._

Phil stares back at him, drifting from eye to eye. Then, without warning, Phil puts a hand over Dan’s and gets closer to him.

Internally, Dan is screaming.

“Uh,” the woman says, eyes flickering between the two.

“Yeah, sorry, he’s just super, super gay,” Phil smiles and plants a horrible, sloppy kiss on Dan’s cheek.

_No! No!! No!!! Fuck you, Phil!!!!_ Dan screeches.

The woman’s face completely drops as she shrinks, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I had no idea, uh, I’m--” and without much ceremony, the woman leaves as quickly as possible.

“Phil.”

“Shh, she could still be looking at us,” Phil says, so nonchalantly that Dan just wants to fucking explode.

But he can’t. He’s in public, and that woman is definitely, definitely, still looking at them. So, to convey his anger at him, Dan squeezes Phil’s arm as much as he can.

“Ow, stop hurting me, boyfriend,” Phil moans.

“I’ll kill you I’m actually going to kill you I swear on my life--”

“Oh, hush,” Phil whispers, and lays his head on Dan’s shoulder, properly cuddling up to him. See, Dan is still mad and definitely allowed to be, but Phil washed his hair that morning, and it smells good, so he’s allowed to appreciate it. Slightly. 

The barista calls out their names then, and Dan could not be more grateful to have an excuse to leave. They grab their drinks and step outside, the sun shining down on them, the blue of the sky so much brighter now that Dan has put that horrifying, awkward situation behind him…

Except Phil seems to be milking this for all he can. He still has his arm wrapped around Dan’s.

“You can let go now,” Dan grumbles.

Phil hums and begins to, exaggeratedly, tap his fingers against his chin, “Nope, don’t think I will. You never know if she’s still looking, right?”

Dan turns to send his fiercest, most intense, glare at Phil; hoping that maybe he can set Phil on fire or something. Phil just blinks at him.

“What have I ever done to you?” Dan asks.

“Remember that one time when I invited you to Manchester to see my university friends and I told you to brag about me to them?”

“What? And then I said that you almost set the flat on fire when trying to masturbate to Sarah Michelle Gellar?”

Phil groans so loudly that he could only be reliving the moment when Dan embarrassed him in front of his friends, “Yes!”

“That was, like, a million years ago!” Dan argues.

“A northern boy never forgets,” Phil drawls, “But at least I’ve proven that I can be a good boyfriend when you need me to be and you just throw me under the bus like a menace.”

Dan doesn’t know whether the pit in his stomach is a result of him wanting to backflip off a cliff from that statement or because he wants to skip off into the sunset with Phil… because of that statement, “You’ve actually just proven that you’d be the worst boyfriend.”

“But a good pretend one!”

“Nope, can’t even give you that. I think my cheek still has your slobber on it.”

“...Someone would pay a pretty penny for that slobber,” Phil murmurs. Dan doesn’t even want to think about how weird of a flex that is. He continues, “Besides, that girl was convinced, wasn’t she? I ought to charge you for my services.”

“Literally all we had to do was look at each other, and she would be convinced that we were banging if the internet is anything to go by,” Dan gripes, “All that kissing was just unnecessary.”

Phil laughs, “That just means I’ll be charging you extra.”

Dan, having completely lost the will to argue on about this or about how they’re a compelling couple or about unpacking what precisely that means for the two of them, gives Phil a swift kick straight to the ass. Phil yelps, and they still have their arms linked.

* * *

Drinking is, certainly, not as sexy as marketing companies would have you think it is. Dan learns this the hard way.

How he even got to be this stupidly drunk is anyone’s guess. Perhaps a random bout of impulsivity driven by a search to feel something, or an attempt to run away from his ever-growing problems, or maybe he was just caught up in all the social drinking and drank way more than he anticipated. Dan sure as hell doesn’t know; this night has all but become a blur of shot after shot after shot.

“Hey,” a YouTuber that Dan, ashamedly, doesn’t recognize says. All Dan really can tell about him is that he has a very sharp jawline and it’s intimidating as all hell when compared to his own soft features. The mysterious YouTuber pulls out his wallet, fiddles with some dollar bills, and pulls them out to swat them at Dan’s face, “You wanna make a bet?”

“Uh,” is all Dan can manage to really say when his inhibitions are in the shitter. And when his face is being slapped with money.

“Look,” the YouTuber tilts his head to motion for Dan to look behind him. It takes him a couple of seconds to understand the gesture, but Dan complies. He sees a swathe of bodies, either dancing or just standing in circles and trying to talk to each other over the pumping music. Dan’s eyes are immediately drawn to a friendly face, much taller than the rest of the crowd. Good man. Best friend. Tall boy. Phil. Yes. 

Dan can vaguely hear people laughing in the social circle he’s in. Wait, who are these people? How did he get here again?

The YouTuber grips his arm to get his attention, and suddenly Dan isn’t thinking about Phil and the various ways he can describe him. People have seemed to gather around to listen in on this conversation between Dan and this YouTuber, or maybe they’ve always been there, but Dan hasn’t noticed until now? 

Besides the point, the YouTuber flaunts his money in Dan’s face again, “The next round of drinks is on me…” the crowd around him cheers at this, “If…” the crowd clings on to his every word and dramatic pause, “You suck AmazingPhil’s dick.” The crowd just seems to erupt then, laughing and dog whistling at the prospect of this challenge.

“Uh…” Dan scratches at his ear because it itches. “No.”

“Okay,” the YouTuber says, “the next round of drinks is on you!” The crowd oohs and ahs accordingly.

“Or do you got no balls?!” Some random dude hollers over at Dan.

“No balls!” A girl shrieks.

And suddenly, a chant of “No balls! No balls! No balls!” catch on within the group. Bystanders start to look over at where all the ruckus is coming from, and Dan kinda wants to die right now. Somehow, someway, he seems to have found himself as the jester for these unknown messy YouTubers. Great.

Infuriated, Dan starts to leave, hoping his legs can take him as far away from here as possible. The crowd groans behind him and the YouTuber, not wanting to disappoint his spectators, quickly catches up with Dan and sets his strong hands on Dan’s shoulders. “Okay, okay, okay,” he begins, “Think about it like this: I’m doing you a favor, man. Everybody knows you wanna fuck Phil.”

Does he? Dan hardly has the brain capacity to seriously think about that. Phil equals good man. Man that is very cute with big blue eyes. Cute boy.

“So,” the YouTuber claps Dan’s shoulder, “I’m giving you an excuse to put the moves on him. You can just say ‘Nah bro, I got these cunts that gave me a bet and I want them to leave me alone’ if you fuck it up. But, if you don’t…”

“Dude, get away from me,” Dan, somehow, gathers enough strength to free himself from the YouTuber’s grip and starkly walks away.

“Alright, man, good talk! Send pics, or it doesn’t count!” the YouTuber shouts behind him, a chorus of laughs following suit.

Dan, not having many options on where to situate himself in this hellish room filled with hellish people, makes his way to the only person he trusts. From far away, he can already tell Phil is much, much soberer than he is. In fact, he seems to be fiddling nervously with the one drink he’s been nursing this entire evening. Phil… handsome. Very handsome.

Once he makes to Phil’s side, Dan presses his shoulder to Phil’s, leaning on him slightly. It’s warm and grounding.

“What was that all about?” Phil whispers to him. The group that Phil has made himself home in is murmuring amongst themselves, “I mean, I would have gone to help, but all those guys look like they could throw me out the window.”

Dan laughs lowly at that. He looks at Phil’s face properly, and it’s probably the brightest thing that Dan has seen today. Phil’s eyes are so vibrant and colorful. His hair is dark but soft looking. His freckles cover so much ground and are so sweet and endearing.

Dan pokes Phil’s nose, “Yeah,” he says.

“You…” Phil laughs, “are really plastered.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, “Um, would you let me suck your dick for a bit.”

Someone in the group loses their mind and stats guffawing. Phil, on the other hand, looks flabbergasted. He goes completely red in the face, and Dan thinks it’s a good look. Before he knows it, Dan finds himself being dragged out to a secluded place, the sound of whooping in the background.

“What was that about?!” Phil squeaks, in the manner where he’s really trying not to lose it, but his voice betrays him.

“It’s--” Dan holds back a burp that crawls up his esophagus, “You know how in, like, uni? There’s always those frat parties where people are just, I don’t know, desperately hoping to fit in, so they do stupid shit that haunts them well into their adult lives and traumatizes them from making close personal relationships for the rest of their life?”

Phil blinks, “That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, basically, some guy wants me to suck your dick.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Phil groans, “Dan.”

Dan then decides that he doesn’t like the cold press of the wall on his back. He moves forward and leans his head on Phil’s shoulder again. Warm boy.

“You do know you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, right? Like, most YouTubers are actually kind of scared of us?”

Dan just groans, because the world is starting to spin a bit and Phil is very much present. Phil good.

“You’re a lot more drunk than I thought,” Phil comments, not particularly to Dan.

“I just wanna know if you’d actually let me suck your dick,” Dan pesters.

“Dan, no.”

“Like, I don’t even have to do it. I could just put a sausage in my mouth, and we can just say that I did it.” 

“...I’m not letting people think my dick is a sausage,” Phil mumbles.

“That’s--” Dan, unable to hold back any longer, belches. It’s absolutely disgusting, “--fair. But you’re not my real friend.”

“Listen,” Phil puts a hand on his back, and is decidedly moving them somewhere else. They get back inside the venue, where the world, despite being loud as hell, has yet to break into their bubble, “You’re not exactly in your right mind. Plus, with you being drunk, I don’t want you to get sick on-- y’know…”

“Got a big ego, don’t we?”

“Shut up,” Phil laughs merrily, his tongue sticking out of his teeth like it always does “You smell, and you’ve got pit stains on your shirt.”

“Mmm,” Dan mumbles. He hardly notices that they’re outside, the blistering atmosphere of the party firmly behind them, never to be revisited again. All he really has in mind is Phil and the reassuring weight of his hand on his back.

They stand there for what feels like hours. Phil’s so warm, and Dan clutches at him like a lifeline. Dan just wants to fall asleep or eat his weight in pizza or come his brains out, either would be really good--

“Wait, you would fuck me if I weren’t drunk or disgusting?”

“Get in the car, Dan.”

* * *

The new flat is, decidedly, excellent. This is especially apparent when summer rolls around, and everyone in the UK is baking inside their 5,000-year-old buildings while Dan and Phil happily laze around in an air-conditioned flat.

Despite the comfort bought from gaining thousands of dollars from teenage girls on the internet, Phil insists on getting tons of cold treats as if he were back in the old flat. Dan thinks about mentioning his lactose intolerance but decides to give it a pass when he realizes he benefits from Phil’s poor choices.

It happens one afternoon, where Dan is happily indulging in some salted caramel ice cream when Phil’s sharp scream cuts through the beautiful moment that he was just having. Dan briefly considers getting up to see what’s going on, but Phil beats him to it. Phil, rather ungracefully, bounds up the stairs like a wild gazelle with a horrified look on his face.

“Dan, Dan-- my-- there's--” Phil gasps in panic.

“Phil,” Dan tries, “You need to chill the fuck out. What--”

“Wasps!” Phil suddenly shouts.

Immediately, Dan’s fight or flight response is activated, and he chooses flight. Dan curls in on himself as if he were suddenly in a swarm of wasps. None are present, but he insists on screaming, “What! Where! Why!”

“In my room!”

“Oh,” Dan straightens up, “Wait, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know!” Phil shrieks helplessly, “I was just in there eating ice cream, and suddenly there’s like three wasps buzzing in my ear and getting up in my business!”

Dan shudders in horror, then says, “Please tell me you closed the door.”

Phil stares at him, and it tells Dan more than enough. Dan rockets down the stairs, and before he thinks too hard about a possible confrontation with a wasp while he’s down there, he closes the door to Phil’s room. Firmly. To send a message.

After a quick panic and a call to a random exterminator they found on Facebook, it is determined that Phil’s room is a no-go zone. The exterminator tells them that it is very likely that a wasp’s nest is just chilling idly outside of the room and, basically, that room belongs to the wasps now. The exterminator also tells them that’s he’s booked for the day, but he can attend to them first thing tomorrow morning, and Dan and Phil have no choice but to reluctantly agree.

“It’s not so bad,” Phil, ever the unrelenting optimist, reasons, “I’ll just make the lounge my new home.”

“You do that,” Dan sighs, “I’ll just get some more blankets for the night, I guess.”

“Oh,” Phil says, watching Dan as he makes good on his word, “I hadn’t really thought that far. Um…” Phil turns his attention to the couch, and while he has had many good naps on his old friend, it’s kind of… not the best for longer sleep.

And, well, as much as he is an optimist, Phil is an equally good manipulator.

Clearing his throat, Phil puts on his best ‘I really need a favor, but I don’t want to directly ask for it’ voice, and muses, “I love the couch, but you know, it’s not the same as an actual bed. You know how much my back starts to hurt when it’s not supported, that and I don’t sleep as well without a good pillow. Have I mentioned how my posture is getting worse and--”

“Oh, shut up, old man,” Dan interrupts, “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll just crash on the couch for the night.”

Phil blinks because he wasn’t expecting Dan to cave so quickly, but also he wasn’t exactly planning on kicking Dan out of his room altogether, “I wasn’t saying you should sleep here, I’m fine sharing the bed with you,” he says, surprisingly genuine.

“Hm,” Dan ponders, “Fine, but be on your best behavior or I’m leaving.”

Fast forward to that night, and Dan doesn’t know what he expected. For one, Phil needed to borrow his pajamas since the wasps were holding all his clothes hostage. Usually, Dan is practically swimming in his oversized clothes, but Phil seems to fill out way more space in them. Except for the pajama bottoms, which end up being a little tight and making Phil’s ass very, uh, present. So, that visual was grating on Dan a bit.

Secondly, Phil can’t seem to decide how exactly he wants to sleep. Dan is firmly on his side, hugging his pillow, but Phil is practically doing summersaults if the movement of the bed were to give anything away.

“Phil,” Dan starts.

“I’m sorry,” Phil squeaks, “But isn’t sleeping on the same side kind of intimate? Maybe I should sleep the other way.” And Phil does precisely that, flopping on his stomach to lay feet-first on the bed.

“What the hell are you on about?” Dan grumbles, unimpressed, “It’s not like I’m going to snog you in my sleep or something.”

“Maybe not, but if you do,” Phil wiggles his toes, “At least you’ll be doing it to my feet and not my face.”

“You got a foot fetish, mate?” Dan quips.

“Your mum has a foot fetish,” To stress his reasonable point, Phil begins to shove his feet at Dan’s face.

Dan yelps, “Get your crusty feet away from me, you-- ow!” because Phil is a clumsy oaf with very little control of his limbs and bops Dan’s nose with his foot.

Immediately, Phil shoots up to look at the damage done. It honestly doesn’t look like anything serious, but Phil is practically being scorched alive by Dan’s glare alone, “Oh no! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” He apologizes profusely, but he can't help but laugh because Dan just looks so funny with him being swathed in blankets and with that pouty look on his face.

So when Dan absolutely refuses to respond back to Phil, Phil just gives in, “Okay, I’m moving back now.”

“Thank you,” Dan grumbles. To emphasize his point, he turns his back on Phil. He’s just rubbing it in at this point, Phil thinks.

For a few blissful moments, there is complete silence. Dan almost, almost falls into merciful sleep. That secure feeling goes away rather quickly because he swears the back of his neck is burning. Surely not, Dan thinks, Surely Phil isn’t just looking at him right now.

Dan turns around, and yup, he’s met with Phil’s piercing blue eyes and Dan definitely notices that Phil feels caught out by Dan’s sudden movement since his eyes widen a considerable amount.

“Edward Cullen?” Dan sneers.

Phil giggles, whether because he thinks that joke as funny or out of embarrassment, Dan doesn’t know. “Sorry,” Phil says, but in a tone that’s so small and soft that it makes Dan’s insides churn a bit, “I’m just thinking.”

Dan’s first instinct is to tell Phil to think somewhere else. He feels so vulnerable and all he wants is for Phil to not do that thing with his voice again, but he reconsiders when he thinks about himself in various situations just like these, where he’s spiraling down in the absolute stillness of the night. So, instead, Dan says, “What about?”

“...Dogs.”

Dan splutters and starkly turns around again.

“Hey!” Phil yells, and whatever mood Dan thought was going on was definitely just a fluke, “I’ll have you know it was a very important thought!”

Dan sighs. A very, very long sigh. He turns to face Phil again, “Like what?”

“Your curls,” Phil reaches out to fiddle with a stray one, and it doesn’t constrict Dan’s chest at all, “They remind me of Cocker Spaniels.”

“...Spaniel Howell,” Dan says.

“Spaniel Trowel.”

“Spaniel Vowel.”

“Spaniel… Bowel.”

“You ruined it,” Dan deadpans.

“I know,” Phil groans, “We shouldn’t name our dog that.”

Dan’s mouth goes dry. They’ve talked about adopting a dog, many many times. Yet, in the back of Dan’s mind, he always figured that it was just a fantasy because… Dan doesn’t know, “As if we could take care of a dog long enough to name it,” he shoots back.

“Yeah,” Phil says, and he’s back at that soft voice again, “But a boy can dream.”

“I suppose,” Dan sighs.

It’s quiet again. Dan is feeling so much and facing Phil isn’t helping, but he’s too tired to turn his back on him. Instead, Dan buries himself deeper in his duvet, hoping for some sanctuary somewhere in there.

Faintly, he hears Phil start to giggle. Dan peeks out just a bit to see what’s so funny and Phil is still, still looking at him.

“You look like a creature,” Phil says.

Dan just manages to stick his hand out far enough to flip him off.

Phil giggles some more, “Your eyelashes are so long,” he comments.

“Thanks, I grew them myself.”

“Excellent job, Howell. You’ve got a lot of moles too.”

“...Stop staring at me and let me sleep, you cretin.”

“Okay, sorry, shutting up now,” Phil covers his eyes with his hands, because of course he couldn’t just use his eyelids or something.

This time, the silence is extended. Dan gets to the precipice of sleep, just at the midway point where he’s still conscious enough to tell what’s happening. At that exact moment, Phil starts to speak again, but just barely.

“I really want a Corgi,” he starts, “but maybe we should focus on getting a big house first. Or maybe a penthouse? With lots of windows and stuff. Then we can settle down and get a dog and live our best lives.”

Dan presses his foot against Phil’s shin.

“Your feet are so cold!” Phil squirms.

* * *

It happens so unremarkably, it’d be hard for anyone to wax poetic about it.

“Dan!” Phil calls from the kitchen, “Can you clean the dishes for me?” 

“Noooo!” Dan dramatically objects from his space on the couch. Phil doesn’t think anything of it because, despite his protest, Dan dutifully arrives in the kitchen.

“What are you making?” Dan converses as he turns on the faucet.

“Uh, I found some chicken and some rice, so chicken and rice.”

“Does that mean we have to restock? Already?”

“I wouldn’t object to another takeout week,” Phil cheekily smiles.

Dan rolls his eyes, “Alright, I’ll put in the Waitrose order today.”

“Thank yooou,” Phil sings, “Do you want to check if the rice is ready?”

“If I must,” Dan says. He puts away the dish he just finished cleaning and moves to stand directly behind Phil, quietly observing him as he cooks both of their meals. Phil is so clumsy, and from the way he holds himself, one would think that he never learned how to properly grip a utensil in his life. At the same time, Phil looks like he’s in the zone, like he’s so used to making meals for two, like he is exactly where he belongs. 

Dan wouldn’t change a thing about Phil, or about his place in his life, he thinks wistfully.

“Are you expecting me to feed you or something?” Phil giggles and turns to look at Dan and--

Their lips meet for the first time. Not in a grand gesture of desperation from living a life that they wished was their reality, not from a drunken stupor of glazed inhibitions and hidden truths, and not from close proximity under the vulnerable state of night time. It happens because Dan was standing just a bit too close in Phil’s personal bubble. A complete accident.

The kiss is short, with Phil pulling back in surprise, “Oh!”

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dan’s cheeks are rosy; he feels caught out by the moment that just happened and the excitement that is vibrating just under his skin. Phil is wide-eyed, but the blueness in them is so vibrant and warm; he feels like his world just got that much more lively, and frankly, this is quite absurd so--

They both burst out laughing.

“Geeze, Dan, keep your lips to yourself,” Phil says, absolutely beaming.

“Okay, sorry, my lips are reserved for rice only,” Dan chortles. He’s true to his word and, finally, tastes the rice, “S’ pretty good.”

“Great,” Phil turns the heat down on the rice, “Go back to cleaning the dishes.”

Dan pouts in Phil’s direction and firmly remains where he stands. He does this long enough for Phil to cave and give him a bit of his attention.

“Can I help you?” Phil says.

“Doesn’t kissing you give me any privileges like, y’know, not doing the dishes?”

Phil just looks at him. Dots of red settle on his cheek and they almost give him away, Dan thinks, but then he’s caught off guard by Phil leaning in and kissing him again. This time, much firmer than their flimsy first kiss. A much, much firmer confirmation of ‘yeah, I’ll be keeping you around for a long while.’ Dan can’t help but smile into it.

“I took the kiss back,” Phil murmurs, as he breaks it. “Now, go do the dishes, slave.”

“I hate you,” Dan says, smiling.

“Hate you, too,” Phil says.

This feels just like it should, they think.

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey. I absolutely love trope fic. I eat that shtuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The idea of "consciously making a trope fic that is just not even close to ideal or romantic" came to me suddenly and in the span of the week, I wrote this. I'm ready to go into hibernation again.
> 
> Yes, I am aware that Dan and Phil's actual love story is a modern fairy tale. It hurts me to think about it.


End file.
